Hell on Earth
by Bloody Koalas
Summary: The death of Anna Curtin was sudden and violent. The greatest medical minds in the world are stumped, and as more cases like Anna's occur the situation turns desperate. No cause, no cure. Is this the end of humanity? It's all up to House and his team.
1. Genesis

**A/N: This fic was conceived while talking on the phone about a private message we'd received; it was completely random, but sometimes some of the best fics just pop out of nowhere. This is more of a prolouge and will get much Housier later on. We will continue, but only if you like it.**

**Disclaimer: We -really- do not own House. Not even one little syringe.**

**Written by Hadley AND Marie, the Bloody Koalas.**

"So, Miss, how are you doing today?" The nurse's nametag had a slight glare, but Anna Curtin could make out the barley legible name. She smiled back at the kind nurse whose hair seemed to be graying.

"Just fine, actually, Nurse Brenda!" The nurse smiled back, and Anna tried not to flinch as Brenda took her arm and began to stick the needle into her swollen vein. Brenda noticed her discomfort. She looked at the young women with concern.

"Are you alright?" Brenda placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine. I've been giving blood for a long time now; I should really be used to this." Anna was surprised at the discomfort in her arm, which seemed to be growing. It had never hurt like this before. She shrugged it off, and tried to situate herself in a comfortable position on the metal gurney she was lying on.

"I'll get you some juice, honey; I'll be right back." Brenda smiled kindly at Anna before she turned away to fetch the juice.

"Thank you," Anna called out weakly, to Brenda's turned back.

Anna laid back and tried to relax. She breathed in and out, deeply looking around the room, casually, _desperately_ trying to ignore the searing pain in her arms. She focused on all of the posters plastered on the walls, most of which read, 'Give Blood Today' or 'Save a Life Now'. Suddenly a sharp burst of pain pulled her out of her reverie, making her gasp. She clawed at her sweater sleeve trying to pull it up to see her skin. The fabric ripped as she yanked the indigo sleeve off of her arm. Dark red hives were scattered across and up her arm, perhaps her whole body. Anna tried to control her frantic breathing. What on earth was happening to her? She tried to call for Nurse Brenda as she ripped the transfusion needle out of her arm. Blood spurted from the open vein as the needle was roughly pulled out.

Anna staggered to her feet, slipping in puddles of her own blood as she scrambled to the door. One step at a time, almost there, then she fell to the floor as a sharp pain grew in her abdomen. She lay there gasping, tears streaming down her face. Her vision blurred, and it seemed as though she was looking through a tunnel. She opened her mouth and must have resembled a fish out of water as her mouth opened wide and shut spasmodically; her lungs needed air, _now_! Anna started seizing on the floor, still attempting to scream for the help she knew would arrive too late._Please, just make the pain STOP!_ Her seizuresended as quickly as they had begun,yet her body wasslowly giving up the fight for life. All was silent in the clinic room as Anna Curtin let out one last strangled gasp before falling deathly still. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling of clinic room number three, expression frozen in pure agony, her last desperate call for help falling upon dead ears, to be frozen forever onto her blue lips.

* * *

Brenda returned to clinic room. She juggled the multiple cups of juice as she tried to open the door.

A smile lit her face. "Well, sweetie, here I am…" the comment slowly trailed off as Brenda beheld the horrific scene before her. The glasses dropped, shattering upon impact with the ground and mixing with Anna Curtin's blood, as Brenda let out an ear- splitting scream. What the hell had happened? Curious clinic patients and doctors alike flooded the room, surrounding a very pale Brenda. Hushed gasps, whispers, and shouts filled the air as they beheld the gruesome sight. A tall, very pale doctor stepped toward Anna's motionless body. Shakily, he held his fingers to her still-warm neck, anxiously searching for a pulse. He looked toward the crowd. "She's… dead."

Brenda, who _seemed_ to have regained her cool, shook her head in despair. Her eyes filled with tears as she examined Anna's mangled and swollen body. "But...how?" The comment received silence. How had this happened? How had Anna died?

* * *

**A/N: If you like it, we'll continue... **


	2. It's About Time

**A/N: Sorry about the spacing in the last chapter…FF going crazy on us lately. There are two possibilities for this fic—one, we'll get it finished doubly fast because we're both working on it; or two, it'll take us forever because we're both busy with individual fics. Oh well. We're sure you'll like this! Please note: We're not going to post any more until we have a lot more of the story done…so, keep those alerts handy. Expect the next five-or-so chapters around April.**

**Disclaimer: Seeing as I don't own a high-paying job in the directing industry, I'm betting it's pretty probable that **_**I don't own House.**_

House grappled down the hallway as fast as he could, casting intimidating glares at nurses and interns as he passed. He snarled at a clinic patient who looked up at him innocently. He wasn't letting anyone stop him—House was a man on a mission. 

The destination of House's journey became evident when he burst determinedly through the doors of Cuddy's office. "Hey! I need you. Get off the phone."

Cuddy glanced up at her intruder with shining eyes. She shot him her Look, that special mask she wore only in situations of the utmost annoyance. This was definitely one of those times. Cuddy narrowed her focus, pleading that glares could kill. They didn't. And she was still stuck with _him._ She crossed her legs defiantly, and then whispered in a hushed tone to her caller, "I'm sorry; this is a bad time. I'm going to have to call you back." That's when the anger began.

Cuddy hissed. "What could you _possibly_ have needed that you interrupted my call?" She was about to continue, but House interrupted.

"I want the case."

She held her head high and rolled her eyes. "House, we don't _have_ any complicated cases. But we do have simple ones—go to the clinic!"

"No, I want _this_ case," He stated in an annoyed tone, throwing Anna's file onto her desk.

Cuddy's eyes scanned the pages. She looked up quizzically. "There's nothing wrong with her. She came in to give blood!"

House leaned against the wall, clearly irritated. "Yes…but before she could, she died. I want the case."

Cuddy placed her arms onto her desk and sighed. "_You _aren't getting the case. Dr. Warner from the Morgue will be getting the case. It's not your job to perform autopsies. Any more job verifications you need me to spell out for you?"

House stared at Cuddy with a fire in his eyes. "When are you going to get it? It's not about me! It's not about the puzzle! Can't you swallow you pride enough to realize that something might be _really_ wrong here?"

Cuddy sighed deeply, locks of brunette hair flying haphazardly across her face. Her expression softened, and she opened her mouth to protest. But he was right, and she tightened her lips, allowing him to continue.

"She came into the clinic to give blood. I know for a fact that she didn't make it that far. We need to find out why." House's persistent voice was uncharacteristically gentle, but still firm enough to show Cuddy he meant every word. 

The dean of medicine glanced down, focusing her gaze on the pleats of her navy blue skirt. Smoothing them out, she wondered how long it would take to lose her mind in the folds. She mumbled a retort half-heartedly. "Dr. Warner could do it just as well."

Nonetheless, House smiled. Despite his boss's unhappy relinquishment of the case, he had gotten it. He had won, won the case of the late Anna Curtin. House nodded curtly to Cuddy before limping out the door. He couldn't wait to see his team's face.

* * *

Chase tapped his pen melodically against the glass table of the conference room. It was a sad sight to behold—the table was laden with a sprinkling of dust, and the whiteboard practically cried out to be used. They hadn't had a case in weeks. He hoped they got a case soon—he was getting stir-crazy. Or rather, clinic crazy. Chase was tired of working off the horribly over-diagnosed colds and fevers of the modern age. He wanted hard-core medical patients. But, Chase reasoned, at least no one was sick. And anyway, they probably wouldn't get a case, at least not today. No one on the team had even seen House all morning, and it was very possible he wasn't coming in at all. Chase looked up at Cameron briefly before setting his head down again, tapping out the rhythm to the song nobody knew the words to. 

Cameron's gaze shifted to the door, as if she could read Chase's thoughts and expected them to prove true. They did not. She wasn't surprised. Cameron crossed her legs tiredly and sipped at her fourth cup of black coffee. Foreman had made it, so there was actually a reason to drink it. He always made the best coffee, unlike one particular Aussie who watered the whole pot down so much it tasted like burnt water.

Foreman leaned heavily against the windowsill, peering out onto the hospital courtyard. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and he was trapped inside the disinfectant wasteland some called 'Princeton-Plainsboro'. He groaned in an irritated fashion and slammed his eyes shut, only to find that he needed to open them again.

"Wakey, wakey! Its time to play '_Do my Bidding_'!" House yelled, shaking Foreman out of his reverie and scaring his youngest duckling so badly that he nearly fell out of his chair. Cameron merely set her coffee onto the tabletop and folded her hand in her lap. She was fully expecting that he show up. It was about time.


	3. Marie Can't Think of a Title

**A/N: Can you BELIEVE it? I certainly can't! (by the way, Hadley is writing this author's note, which doesn't quite make sense because I didn't actually author the chapter, but whatever…) Marie actually **_**finished**_** this chapter! Everyone REJOICE! **

**Disclaimer: Come on, be realistic—how could we own House? We can't BOTH be David Shore.**

* * *

"What do you mean I have ta finish this one?!" The scruffy Dr. Warner snorted into the phone in disgust as he pushed his spectacles further up on his nose.

"_Come on Pete. Just this last one won't hurt. Dr. Cuddy wants a second opinion on a COD." _The voice on the other end sounded tired, and the bad phone connection caused the messenger's voice to crackle and fluctuate. Pete sighed in acceptance.

"I s'pose she's sending someone down to observe, then."

"_Yeah. Doctor Wilson will be there in a minute."_

"Doc Wilson? Isn't he the Head of Oncology or somethin'? How come he's sittin' in on House's autopsy?

"_Dr. House couldn't be there because he was too…busy."_ The word 'busy' was drawled out with a heavily irritated voice, which paused the conversation before he continued,_ "He wanted someone he could trust to observe. Busy my ass! Probably watching General Hospital or something whatever else he watches these days…"_

The line remained silent for several moments, but was then interrupted by a deep sigh from Doctor Warner.

"_Gee Pete, I'm real sorry you have to work late. Maybe I'll stop by later and give you some take-out or somethin'?"_ The voice seemed truly sympathetic, even through the ripples of static.

"Naw, Henry, go home. I have a sandwich down here all ready, made by the wife too, so it has to be good, right?" He gave off a forced chuckle. A sharp static crackle caused him to pull the phone away in pain. "What in tarnation…Henry, do me a favor, would ya? Tell Doc Cuddy to get better connection or somethin' down here. That cartoon bird with the blue feathers."

"_Sure Pete, sure. For the record, it's called Time Warner Cable."_

"What does it matter? You young people have the weirdest things these days. Now back in my day, that bird faced a stupid coyote and….."

"_Uh, Pete, I really have to go..."_

"Right. Sorry. See ya tomorrow, Henry."

"_See you tomorrow, Pete. Have a nice night! Same for the wife."_

"Bye." The phone line went dead. He sighed. It sure was lonely in the morgue, no one to talk to except dead people. So he did.

"Well." His voice echoed in the dim room. "Just you and me 'till Doc Wilson shows up." No answer, as usual. He shuffled over to the examination table where Anna Curtin's body lay. Slowly he pulled back the starched white hospital sheet revealing a young, innocent and beautiful face, even in death. Warner shook his head in despair. "You had your whole life ahead of you, didn't ya darlin'." His grumbling stomach reminded him of his wife's sandwich. Turning his head toward the morgue clock, he shook his head in disappointment. "All you young people disrespect your elders, bein' late all the time…" He continued his grumbling as he reached into his bag and pulled out his dinner, licking his lips in anticipation. He glanced over to the clock once more, still no Wilson. What was taking him so long? His eyes then fell upon the bright sign on the wall of the morgue, which specifically read:

_**No EATING OR DRINKING in the morgue area. **_

He knew the rule was to prevent contamination of the body, but this was a simple case. Just a double-check on a COD. No need for concern. Dr. Warner turned toward his dead companions. "We'll allow it just this once right? You're not going to tell no one, are you, hon?" He laughed heartily at his own joke as he unwrapped his sandwich in excitement. It was the big kind, the overloaded submarine kind, the sort of sandwich that fell apart if you didn't cut it in half at least once.

"Dammit! The missus forgot to pack a knife again!" His eyed tearful with crushed anticipation, the old man began to shuffle around the morgue in search of a surrogate dining utensil, which was altogether ridiculous because he was in the supposedly completely sterile PPTH Morgue. Then his eyes fell upon the autopsy tools. More specifically, the scalpel.

"You wouldn't?" He edged closer holding a conversation with himself. "You would?" His wrinkled hand reached for the scalpel hovering just above it. The continuous growling emitting from his stomach made the final decision. "You will." He grabbed it rushing over to his sandwich. He held the shining scalpel in one hand and restrained the double ham pickle and cheese sandwich in the other. "Slowly now. Steady, steady, making the incision…now!" The extremely sharp scalpel designed for slicing open patients penetrated the sandwich easily, much too easily. "Damn!" His fingers recoiled as the scalpel slit his index finger. He brought the sliced finger to his mouth and sucked piteously. "Damn!" Slowly the bleeding stopped enough for him to inspect the cut. It was small, but still it stung. "Geez, just my luck! I have to work late, I got blood _all over_ my sandwich, and Dr. Wilson isn't even here yet!" He took one last look at his ruined sandwich forlornly as he dumped it in the trash. "That's it. I'm starting without him!" He replaced the scalpel with a fresh sterilized one and buttoned his lab coat. It was time to begin the autopsy of Anna Curtin.

* * *

"House… you do realize our 'patient' is already dead, don't you?" Chase stared in confusion at his copy of Anna Curtin's file. House stared at him, as if annoyed that one of his own could be so stupid.

"No, I'm pretty sure she is just a little dead." Chase flinched as the gruff voice berated him. The question Foreman was contemplating asking was answered after that: "I was there when she died…suspicious circumstances. And we're here to protect the public!" His voice trailed off as he headed toward the whiteboard. He stared at the blank surface deep in thought casually leaning on his cane, reliving the event in search of a clue, any clue that could lead to an answer. Foreman started thinking immediately: _Why would this case be any different? _But Cameron's voice was the one that finally broke the silence.

"House? If she's already dead, wouldn't she have been autopsied already?"

"Yeah. She's getting one as we speak."

"Shouldn't we be obser-" She was quickly cut off.

"Already taken care of… I sent Wilson down." Cameron opened her mouth to protest, probably to say that she was their patient now and that THEY should be observing, but was, once again, interrupted, but this time by the apparently thoughtful Foreman.

"It says here that she had no preexisting condition when she came in, and even if she did why would she be giving blood?"

"She could have been lying…" Cameron suggested, staring into her coffee mug.

"Excellent!" House looked up a grin on his face, which was quickly followed by a pout, "Just like Daddy Duckling. They grow up so fast." Cameron glowered.

Chase broke in; choosing to ignore what was going on between his boss and his colleague-slash-hottie. "But why would she lie about something if she knew it would endanger the people she donated blood to? She was attending Princeton U. She wasn't an idiot."

House looked toward him, about to shatter the young Australian's fragile mentatlity, when Cameron broke in. "Maybe she wasn't lying, maybe she just didn't know…" A frenzying chorus of pagers cut him off.

Cameron read the tiny screen quickly and then a feeling of horror swept through her body. "Oh…it's Wilson!" She launched out of her chair followed closely by her colleagues. House remained rooted to the spot, unable to move without thinking about the situation. It didn't seem right, and not in the ethical/moral way. It just wasn't logical. Something was definetly wrong with the case of Anna Curtin.


	4. Charging

_Get this: I finished writing this chapter in March! Whoa, right?_

**A/N: (this chapter by Hadley) Well, it was almost still April until…things happened. I've had this chappie done since the last one, but I had to wait for chapter 3 (pokes Marie). At any rate, enjoy the overpriced works of my labor. **

_This one goes out to Holly, aka Redhead1234 on FictionPress. Wait no longer! _

**Disclaimer: I don't own House…but I am an utterly amazing doctor who actually stars on House. My **_**real**_** name is Doctor Imaginary, and I live in the Zeptnarc Galaxy of Heptuna. I save almost-but-not-quite-real lives every single equinoxian t-span. (I had way too much fun writing that…)**

* * *

Wilson only noticed his need for oxygen when he saw black dots sparkling across his field of vision. To tell the truth, the young doctor was quite shaken up. He was surprised he'd even had the frame of mind to page House. Wilson replayed the scene over and over in his mind—Warner swearing as he slipped up during the immoral and probably illegal sandwich slice and cut his arm, but ignoring it; the perilous fall followed by an agonizing couple of seconds of life; and finally the clouding over of his vision. Wilson had checked his pulse instantly…it was gone. He had searched all throughout the room for paddles, but had found none in the dreary Morgue room. He would ask Cuddy to store some in every room, now, including the Morgue.

* * *

House and his team rushed down the corridor pushing aside nurses and patients alike. Chase ran into Cuddy. "Dr. Chase!" she screamed, angrily trying to put her administrative powers back in control.

But House pulled the horrified Australian away from his angry boss and snapped at her. "Not now. Yell at me later." He continued running as fast as he could to the Morgue, leaving a dumbstruck Cuddy to ponder what exactly her hospital had come to.

* * *

Wilson turned his head unhappily at a sound on the stairs. Was House coming down _there_? His thoughts were proved incorrect as a thin brunette slid into the room. "Cameron!"

She frowned at Wilson. "What happened? Where is—" Wilson pointed to the floor beside the metal gurney where the body of the late Anna Curtin lay. Dr. Warner was in the fetal position, head curled onto his chest, and it made Cameron fairly nervous to see the strong doctor in a mangled disposition.

She ran over to his body anxiously before Wilson pulled her back. "No! Don't touch him. He collapsed after touching her blood. Who knows what she gave him?"

"B-but…he'll die!"

"He already did."

Cameron's eyes portrayed curiosity, but she warned herself that it wasn't the mystery that needed to be solved, at least not now. At the moment, she needed to wait for House.

Suddenly, Wilson thought of something. He had touched Warner! Did that mean he would be sick, too? He motioned for Cameron to follow him into a new, sterile Morgue room. "We need masks and gloves. Help me." She just nodded. It felt funny to be right next to the creepy disease yet having no idea what it was. Cameron wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

House's voice broke the silence. "Ohhhh, Wilson? Where are you?" Wilson sighed with apprehension. He was here. The mystery would be solved.

Maybe.

**A/N: Sorry it's a little short; I thought it was a nice place to leave off. (you: Sure, Had, sure…)**


	5. The Stocks

HEY GUYS!

We're so sorry updates have been slow...well, years slow, in fact. Marie and I recently began highschool and were thrown into the whirlwind of acadamia. Truth be told, we really don't have too much of an excuse. We let the fic slip away into recesses of the fictional realm. But we hope to change all that, starting...in three hours. ;) Readers, your favorite carnal marsupials are here to stay, as is this fic...which we've found inspiration for in our favorite video game, LEFT 4 DEAD! (And if ya'll haven't had time to check it out, you'd better, because Valve is freaking awesome.)

We're not sure which direction the story will take, but we DO know that we're staying in the universe of Pre-Bitch. That's Amber, in case you were blind to her awfullness...and, of course, pre-Bitch means pre-13, pre-Kutner, pre-Lucas, etc.

We hope you don't hate us and welcome us back with more-or-less weaponless arms.

-Had and Marie


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